School Reunion
by OddLittleBrit
Summary: When Ludwig came home to his sick English lover, he had an invitation in his hand - one that could land them with everyone they'd left school with 10 years ago. But Arthur's not sure he really wants to see them, especially a certain Frenchman, rumoured to be married, and living in... Russia? A human AU where Arthur tries to hide from his past, and Francis tries to bring him round.


**AN: I wanted something a bit challenging for me - pairings I'd not done before! And I don't now how happy I am with how this came out, but I may as well post it, eh? Maybe you guys'll enjoy it :D**

**WARNINGS/PARINGS: No warnings, except maybe heart break xD but pairings include; GerEng, FRussia, Prussia/N. Italy, and hints of AmeCan**

**DISCLAIMER: Hetalia is not mine, at all, sadly**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland had sprawled himself, rather ungracefully, over the sofa in living room of the house he and his partner, Ludwig, shared in one of the quiet outskirts of Berlin. In his defence, he was in the process of fighting off a horrendous cold, and was bundled under three blankets, a hot water bottle and enough pillows to build a fort. He was under strict instructions from his fiancé not to move from this spot unless absolutely necessary. It was a sweet gesture from Ludwig, but it didn't half annoy Arthur to be cooped up like this. Even if he wanted to, there wasn't anything to do; Ludwig had insisted on filling the fridge, cleaning the house top to bottom, until there was nothing Arthur could possibly find to do. He'd even sent Gilbert over to check on him.

He had just begun reading the final chapter of one of the Harry Potter books he was blitzing through, when there was a tap on the door, followed by the rattle of keys and the door being pushed open. He glanced over his book, a smile appearing on his lips.

"Arthur? I'm home," came the German's voice as he pulled off his shoes. Arthur shimmied up the chair a bit, quickly throwing the small pile of tissues into the bin beside him. Arthur could hear the routine - after shoes went the jacket, then bag, then the clatter on keys on their hooks. Then Ludwig came in, today with a tight frown on his face.

"Are you okay? Gilbert said you looked a bit pale," he said, coming to sit by Arthur's side. Arthur sighed, throwing out the blanket a little to cover Ludwig's knees. The German smiled a little at that. "Ludwig, I'm fine, to be honest I just want to go out," Arthur sighed, grabbing another tissue from the box on the table and rubbing at his sore nose. "It's sunny today, can't we eat dinner outside?" He said, resting his head on Ludwig's shoulder, knowing it would soften the usually cool German. Ludwig sighed, turning to look at Arthur. His blonde hair stuck out at odd angles from the countless hours tossing and turning the previous night, and his nose was rubbed raw. Ludwig's face softened.

"... Ja, if you think it'll help. Oh, und speaking of going out," he added, pulling a small envelope from his pocket. "It was in the post, it seems the Academy is having a reunion, I was thinking of going?" He said, shifting his arm to show the card to Arthur. Arthur sat up, the blanket falling from him, revealing the striped pyjama top he still had on. He took the envelope, noting the letter was only addressed to Ludwig. "I don't see why you can't..." He trailed off as he scanned what it said. "It's a weekend... I take it you won't be working?"

Ludwig was one of the paramedics for the local hospital, one of the reasons he and Arthur had stayed together. Both had left the Academy and by some coincidence joined the same medical program and ended up together. The only two from the Academy, they stuck together, as both were rather secluded individuals, so at least they had someone to talk to. Somehow, and neither were sure quite when, their lunches together became more than polite chat, and they were meeting more often than usual. It might've had something to do with the fact Arthur thought Ludwig looked incredibly good out of Academy uniform, in his tight black t-shirts (and the impeccable abs he managed to maintain), or the fact Ludwig realised Arthur had the darkest sense of humour, but the cutest laugh. Either way, somehow in all of it they became more than friends, more than lovers and eventually left university a paramedic, a doctor and a couple.

The job sometimes meant Ludwig was called out that morning to fill in, or would be sent somewhere in the middle of the night and leaving Arthur waking to an empty bed.

"Und neither will you, you're my plus one," he said tapping the top of the card. "I'm sure you got one too, but nobody knows we live together, it'll be at your house in London". Arthur scoffed "I don't care if I got one or not, there's not a chance I'm going back!" He said, pulling his blanket back up to his chin and rearranging himself on Ludwig's shoulder again. "I'm too ill anyways."

Ludwig smirked, giving Arthur a gentle prod. "Nein, you just said you wanted to go out, this would be the perfect thing. Why are you so reluctant to go anyway?"

Arthur sighed. "Don't you remember the last time I saw anyone from there? When we were heading back to London, and we stopped over in France... God knows he had to be there..."

* * *

The eleventh year at the Academy was the second to last for most students. While a lot of time was spent revising and testing, a lot of time was spent doing... Well not an awful lot. Arthur was 17 at the time, and virtually head of the school. The Academy was a well off school, and classes were much smaller than most American high schools, so most people in each year knew each other, and their reputation; Alfred F. Jones, the loudmouthed football captain; Matthew Williams, the opposite of Alfred in every situation, bar the hockey pitch; Gilbert Beilschmidt, Ludwig's brother and class clown - and so on, all the way to Francis Bonnefoy, the flirt. It had been his personal mission to get a kiss from everyone, willingly, and by the start of the eleventh year, he had all but filled it - Berwald, Roderich and Arthur were the three left on his hit list, and no doubt the hardest. Roderich was first to go, after becoming heavily intoxicated and somehow ending up in Francis' dorm, and Berwald not long after, as he just wanted the French boy to stop pestering him.

So, it was down to Arthur. As the first half term drew to a close, Francis began formulating a plan. Arthur was not his biggest fan, but Francis was willing to use every trick in the book to get Arthur to kiss him. Francis studied Arthur for a long time, getting to know his every habit and tendency. He found himself looking on admiringly, or, could it be? - lovingly? Francis knew about love, he had loved many times, but never once did he think he'd actually find himself falling for the stony faced, English bookworm. But he did.

And as Francis kept trying to organise dates between them, something else sparked in Arthur too. Finally, here was someone who actually wanted to carry his books, or listen to his rant on how American's were butchering the English language. Someone who actually seemed interested. Of course he wouldn't dare admit such a feeling was possible, and nor would Francis say it was anything more than collecting his final kiss and it looked as though the two would never just get on with it. Their friends managed however, that Christmas to get them both drunk enough that when shoved under the mistletoe, Francis claimed his last kiss.

"Joyeux Noël... Arthur" he mumbled into the kiss as he wrapped a hand around Arthur's waist.

"And a happy new year, frog," Arthur replied, shoving him onto the sofa. Very soon after that, word spread and when school started again the following year, Arthur and Francis walked into first lesson with their hands entwined. They were oddly inseparable, such an unusual couple, but oddly they matched. Francis could calm Arthur's short temper, and Arthur could kick Francis into gear when he got bored of lessons. Though they argued playfully (if throwing books at heads is playful, that is), they became the couple that seemed likely to stay together.

Until just before the end of their final year.

It was a year later, or just over in fact, as it was at Arthur's birthday party that everything fell to pieces. Arthur had strictly said no parties, but Francis was determined to throw an amazing party for his favourite Brit, and so on April 23rd, he ambushed Arthur at the end of school, and dragged him towards the gym, a room the school had let them have for the night.

"What the did you do?" Arthur grumbled as Francis pulled him along. The French boy grinned saying nothing and sped up.

They reached the door and Francis put a hand out on it. "Happy Birthday, mon lapin..." He said, pushing it open. Then in a flash of colour, lights flickered on, streamers exploded and a cheer went up. Arthur had turned a brilliant red and gave Francis a half-hearted whack on the head. "G-git,I said no party!"

"Who cares?!" Yelled Alfred from somewhere in the crowd "Let's get wasted!" As if in answer, the music kicked in. Arthur was still pouting rather unsuccessfully as Francis cajoled him over to the drinks table. "Come on, you'll party better with this in you," he said, waving a can of larger at Arthur, who snatched it from his hand with a indignant huff. "I need it to be around you, I said no party!" Francis chuckled, sliding his arm around the smaller boys waist. "Mmm, okay then, this is a St. George's day party. Nothing to do with you, mmm?" He snuck a kiss onto Arthur's cheek and grinned. "Now you'll 'ave to excuse me, 'ave a present to sort out. And a Prussian who's been banned from alcohol, I can't see this ending well... Je t'aime, Arthur," he ended softly. Arthur sighed, "Love you too, Francis..."

And with that, he vanished into the crowd. People were popping up around Arthur left, right and centre, offering him cards, presents or hugs, no matter how much he protested them. Eventually though, the alcohol kicked in, and the gym was full of noise as most of Arthur's year became more and more intoxicated. Arthur himself had lost count of what he'd drunk, when Alfred appeared by his side. He had been sitting in one of the chairs along the side of the room, watching everyone dance when he heard the American arrive.

"Hey, birthday boy!" He yelled over the music, planting himself in the chair beside Arthur. The Brit grinned, (proving he'd drunk much more than he should) and nodded. "Yes, Alfred, what is it?" Alfred grinned, pulling a crumpled bundle from his jacket pocket. "I forgot I had this still, and you opened everything else," he said, pointing at the table of stuff Arthur had already received. Arthur rolled his eyes, swallowing the last drops from his can. "You'd forget your bloody head if it wasn't screwed on... Come on, let's have it then!" Alfred laughed and held the small present out to Arthur, who hurriedly ripped the paper from it. His face shot a bright red once again, and he became very quiet. Alfred scrunched his face, pouting. "Don't'cha like it...? I thought you said..." Arthur shook his head, staring at the leather bound book in his hands.

"Rather the opposite,Alfred, this is-it's-my goodness! First edition! And Peter Pan, I mean, how did you know? How did you get it?!" Alfred smiled, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"Not telling, ahahaha! But don't worry, I didn't rob anyone or anything-" he was interrupted by Arthur's arms suddenly being flung around his neck. Alfred smiled, patting Arthur back as Arthur grinned into his shoulder. The stupid American had gone and blown God-knows how much on a book for him, he couldn't quite believe it - they were friends sure, but he hadn't expected it. Nor had he expected the sudden rush that flooded him, or the sudden urge to pull Alfred into something more than a hug. Maybe it was because he was drunk, maybe because Francis had somehow been gone for an hour when he'd promised to be back right away - Arthur wasn't quite sure what it was. He did know that whatever it was, it made him tangle his fingers through Alfred's hair and pull him into a kiss. A kiss that was more than an accident, a kiss that had Alfred hungrily kissing back, and Arthur grinning into his soft lips. Their hands moved ahead of them, as jackets slid to the floor, and even the prized book landed in Arthur's lap as he cupped Alfred's chin in his hand.

The universe has a funny way of doing things, and it was as the two broke the kiss that the music suddenly stopped. There were a few seconds of silence as whoever was DJ-ing swapped albums, and suddenly every eye was on the two of them. There was a collective gasp from the crowd, and Arthur realised how he was straddling Alfred and how Alfred had his hands down the back of the Brit's trousers.

"Ar...thur?"

"... Francis?!"

Something clattered to the floor by Francis' feet. Arthur scrambled from Alfred's lap, hurriedly tucking his shirt back in as Alfred, who had turned a ghostly white, shrunk into his chair.

"F-Francis, I-ah, please, I just-" Francis interrupted cooly.

"Just what? Kissed someone else? Started undressing someone else?" He walked the short distance between the two of them, his footsteps echoing in the silence. Arthur felt his cheeks flush red for what felt like the hundredth time, and he held his hands up. "It was-"

"Lies, that was not an accident, Arthur Kirkland! You pull back from an accident, that was not accidental, was it?"

Arthur opened his mouth but his tongue stuck and he only managed a stuttered sorry before Francis had him by the throat, in a grip that wasn't too strong, but enough to keep Arthur very still. "You bastard-" and then Antonio appeared at his shoulder.

"Amigo? Let him go... Francis? This isn't you... You don't want to, do you? Let Gil sort him..." Arthur's eyes flew even wider open, and he stared into Francis' eyes. The hatred in them made his stomach turn - Francis had never been so much as annoyed in his life. Tears were building though, Francis was not a hater. He was hurt, shattered and Arthur could see it. He dropped his hands with a shaky breath, and stumbled back.

"Oui,.. Let 'im," he said softly, bending to pick up the item he'd dropped. He turned it over in his hand. "To think..." He glared at Arthur, and with a graceful flick of the wrist, sent the box flying at his head. It caught him off guard, in the eye.

"I was going to get you... Casse-toi..." He turned on his heels, Antonio at his side and left for the Door. Arthur was doubled over the small box, trying to see it through the tears as the people in the hall quickly scarpered, hushed whispers rippling through the crowds as they made an early exit. Arthur struggled to keep calm as he fumbled blindly on the floor, falling to his knees as Francis reached for the handle.

"FRANCIS!" He gasped, knowing it was futile. "I'm sorry!"

A figure came towards him, and thinking it was Gilbert, Arthur braced himself for a beating he knew he deserved. Instead, it was a blonde figure, who picked up the box and slid it into his hand. "Arthur... It's a ring..." Arthur's heart sunk, as Alfred's voice filled his ears. Francis was... Had been... His head spun.

"Alfred... I'm... Just go, before... It wasn't your fault just go, just get out. Go!" He yelled, before a guilty Alfred too, left. Within seconds, he was alone in the gym. He couldn't quite take in what had happened. He had just ruined what had been perfect... In a matter of seconds. He staggered to his feet awkwardly, as two sets of footsteps came towards him. Cold voices cut through the foggy silence in his mind.

"Francis' with Matthew..." Antonio said, more to Gilbert than Arthur.

"Then I think we should teach this Arsch a lesson, eh Toni?"

Arthur shied away from their fists but his head was so blurred by the drink and confusion that he found himself sinking to his knees at the hands of the pair.

When school continued the Monday after, Francis was last in and first out to every lesson he shared with Arthur, requested seat changes when they sat together, and refused to even speak to Arthur. He heard through Feliciano that Francis had told Alfred it was not on his shoulders, the blame was entirely Arthur's. Arthur didn't return until the Wednesday, rumours saying it was while he had a broken nose fixed, and when he did, it was with two black eyes and a limp. He trailed quietly around school, much like he had during their first years at the Academy. He still passed with good grades, and praise from teachers but the whole experience left Arthur with bitter thoughts about the Academy's halls.

* * *

Ludwig sighed. "I know, the whole supermarket story, I was there, remember? You bumped into Francis, I don't see the problem," he said, giving the Englishman a small squeeze. "He wasn't rude."

Arthur groaned "That's the whole point! He was nice! And... It was just odd, alright?" Ludwig shook his head despairingly. "Is this because he's married?" Arthur sat up, staring at Ludwig shocked

"I am not jealous! It's not that he's married... Just to Ivan? Not something... I saw happening. It'll just be weird. I... We ended so awfully, I can't believe he'd want to see me again. Let's not go, please Luddy?" The German said nothing as Arthur put on his best kicked puppy face. "We'll see... I'd really like to go," he said putting a hand on Arthur's face. "Stop with that ridiculous face, Arthur, you look-"

"Cute?"

"I was thinking moronic, but it might work..." He said with a smile, a smile that made Arthur's heart flutter. That was his smile, Ludwig's rare, genuine smile. He leant forward and kissed Ludwig's nose. "Do you want dinner now?" He asked softly. Ludwig's smile widened. "I rather like the look of what's in front of me now actually," he murmured. Arthur laughed, shifting to sit on the German.

"Good thing I'm not hungry now, mmm?"

* * *

Another country, a few days later, a similar conversation took place. Francis Bonnefoy waltzed into the kitchen of Ivan's holiday home in the depths of the Russian forests, the post in hand. His husband sat at the table, eating his way through the croissants Francis had prepared.

"Post's 'ere... A letter for you, from your sister I think... Oh, and two of these, one for me and one for you," he said, handing it to Ivan. He swallowed the bite of pastry he had just taken and opened the envelope, while Francis did the same.

"A school reunion. Nyet, I do not want to go," Ivan said, dropping the card and picking up his croissant. Francis was bouncing on his heels though, and grabbed Ivan's hand. "Non, we must! It'll be so much fun, I 'aven't seen some of them in years!" Ivan shook his head. "Look at the date; we're going away that weekend!" Francis waved a dismissive hand.

"We'll rearrange, please Ivan, it'll be wonderful, I haven't seen Gil and Toni in ages!" Ivan raised an eyebrow silently.

"Well... Not since last week. But still! I want to go see the others - when was the last time we saw Feliciano, mmm? Or Alfred and Matthew-" he gasped suddenly, waving an excited hand. "Did you 'ear, apparently the two are engaged!" He smiled gleefully , "I always knew they were perfect for each other!"

Ivan shook his head, watching his husband flail excitedly. "Do you really want to go?" Francis dropped the letter and clambered onto Ivan's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. "Oui, I'd love to go." Ivan sighed, patting Francis' head. "Then I'll see if we can get a refund on our flights"

"Ah, Ivan, 'ave I told you lately? I love you," Francis grinned, planting a kiss on the Russian's cheek. "Good, I love you too," he returned, giving Francis' thigh a pat. "Now up, we have work, nyet?"

* * *

Arthur blinked against the sudden light of Friday morning and groaned. His hand searched for the duvet to burry himself away from it when another hand met his and bundled him in the sheets for him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he heard Ludwig murmur from beside him. He rolled over to watch as the German rose from their bed, nothing but his shorts covering him. Arthur huffed "Is it morning already?" Prompting a throaty chuckle from Ludwig "Ja, but I thought I could fit a run in before work, you don't need to get up yet." Arthur shook his head.

"No, I'm good. I'm not ill now, no reason I shouldn't be up at six," he said, sliding to the edge of his side of the bed. Ludwig smirked as he pulled clean clothes from his drawers. "Except for the fact it makes you incredibly grumpy?" Arthur glared and lobbed a pillow at the blonde's head. "I don't get grumpy!" Ludwig ducked in the nick of time, catching the pillow. "Proving my point exactly," he said, standing over Arthur with the pillow in his hands. His eyes were sly and Arthur opened his mouth to tell him as such when the pillow came crashing down on his head. With a cry of "Git!" he tumbled backwards. He snatched up Ludwig's pillow, preparing himself for a second blow. "Grumpy," was Ludwig's only reply as he snuck closer to the bed. Arthur watched his closely, for this was now a very serious matter. It was silent between the two for a second until Ludwig's foot slipped on a lone sock on the floor, allowing Arthur to attack. He yelled triumphantly as he got Ludwig across the midriff with his fluffy battering ram, toppling the unsuspecting German. Sadly, physics had other ideas, and Arthur found himself precariously balanced on the end of the bed and in a matter of seconds, falling on top of the prone Ludwig, who caught him with a grunt and then proceeded to roll on top of his, stopping any getaway Arthur had in mind and making the Englishman chuckle. Both men lay, breathing heavily with wild grins across their faces. Ludwig watched as Arthur tried to calm himself, his laughter making it hard to keep a straight face. He managed to stop when he caught Ludwig staring at his pink cheeks, making them glow even more. "I win," Ludwig said softly, leaning down to claim his prize. Arthur sighed as Ludwig's lips met his, "My sock trick didn't phase you, huh?"

Ludwig shook his head as their lips parted. "Though I am disappointed in you, Arthur, socks go in the wash basket, not the floor." Arthur tutted, poking Ludwig's bare chest. "You were the one ripping off my clothes last night, so that's your fault, I'll have you know."

Arthur watched Ludwig's face flush this time, using the distraction to wriggle to freedom. He chuckled as he pulled out his own clothes, and Ludwig sat up at the foot of the bed. "See, you've nothing to say to that have you? I think this means I win." The sock that hit his shoulder told him Ludwig indeed, had no reply to that.

* * *

It was that evening, over dinner, that talk of the reunion restarted. Ludwig watched as Arthur finished his last mouthful before pushing his plate away and staring at his English lover.

"Arthur?" The Brit looked up over his drink, nodding. "Yes...?" The trouble with Ludwig was, Arthur could never be entirely sure if what was coming was something serious or stupid. The latter happened more often than most would believe, so Arthur smiled a little.

"About the reunion-" the smile vanished.

"Ludwig, no! I don't want to come, you go ahead and have fun, but I don't want to go. Didn't we settle this the other day?" He sighed heavily. "I'll bet hardly anyone's going anyway."

Ludwig smirked, picking up his own drink. "Actually, there's a page for it online - you're the only one not going." Arthur sighed.

"Really?" Ludwig nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Ja, look," he said handing it to Arthur. He glanced over the page Ludiwg had pulled up. Sure enough, there were comments from everyone listed confirming their attendance.

"You're spoiling it if you don't," Ludwig said quietly. "Plus... I want to show off my finacé." Arthur looked up from the phone, to see Ludwig... Pouting? He couldn't help a wave of greedy pride wash over him; Ludwig wanted to show them all? It was, well, nice. He rolled his eyes.

"Good Lord, if it means that much to you... Fine. I'll come."

* * *

And that's how it came to be that a few weeks later, in both the Braginsky and Beilschmidt households, four men were busily organising suitcases and on flights heading towards Washington DC. Francis and Ivan landed at four am, and the sleepy pair were quick to find their hotel, and fall into the beds, while Ludwig had carefully planned their trip to the finest detail, and he and Arthur landed a seven, with enough time to stop for dinner before retiring for the night. They had all arrived on the Friday, as Francis had shopping in mind before the reunion that Sunday, and Arthur had decided that if he was being dragged to the reunion, he'd at least get a holiday out of it.

The following Sunday afternoon, Francis poked his head out of the bathroom door, looking incredibly distressed. "Ivan! Where's my conditioner?" His blonde locks hung dripping from his face, both hands clutching the door desperately. Ivan raised his eyebrows, watching the naked Frenchman glare at him from where he lay back on the bed. "It's in there, I checked," he said, grinning. Francis huffed, opening the door fully. The sound of running water filled the room as steam drifted through the doorway. "Well come find it then!"

Ivan sat up, swinging his legs around to the end of the bed. "You are useless without me, aren't you?" He stood, crossing to the bare Parisian, and patting his soggy face. "I'll show you, it is exactly where I put it"

Francis merely pouted as he ducked back under the shower, lathering himself while Ivan dug through the bag on the side. He peered out at him out of the corner of his eye, as the Russian turned, the small blur bottle in hand. "See, it was at the bottom - you just don't look," he said, one hand grasping the bottom of his shirt. Francis smiled playfully. "Well, I'll 'ave it then," he said holding out a hand - but the Russian was already down to his boxers. "Nyet, I can do it" he said, stripping down and stepping into the small cubicle. "Oh, well... If you're offering," Francis replied, glad that the evening wasn't to start for a good few hours yet.

In a hotel, not that far from the Braginsky couple were staying, Ludwig was sat in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting his hair with a steady hand. Arthur watched from the depths of the fluffy duvet, propped up on pillows with a smile to rival the Cheshire cat's. The hotel boasted about its soft beds and excellent rooms, and hadn't disappointed. Ludwig glanced at Arthur in the mirror, watching the lanky Brit stretch himself out across the bed.

"Comfy enough?" He remarked, twisting the lid back onto his hair gel. "Mmm, I think we should just stay here all night, it's marvellous," Arthur said, as Ludwig moved to place the hair products on the bedside table. "Then why did we bother coming, hmm? Come on, you're not even dressed yet," he said, pulling his shirt from his case. He slid it over his shoulders as Arthur mumbled and slid from under the covers.

"Fine," he said, scooping his underwear up from the floor. "I'll go shower,"

Half an hour later, Arthur stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, and was greeted by the sight of Ludwig now in his suit -a tight cut, navy two piece - fumbling with the tie he had looped around his neck. Arthur stood an watched for a few minutes as Ludwig got angrier and angrier at the useless piece of material. "Mein Gott!" He snapped, flinging it across the room with a hurt frown. Arthur almost collapsed he was laughing so hard. Ludwig jerked his had round, glaring at Arthur, in a mix of annoyance and shock. "You're... Like a... An angry toddler," Arthur managed between his laughter. Ludwig huffed and sat on the bed, crossing his arms. "Oh, just get dressed would you?" Arthur (still giggling) bent forward to retrieve the offending article, and stood in front of Ludwig, who wouldn't look at him. "You daft thing, look up," he said, cupping Ludwig's cheeks. Ludwig melted at his touch, eyes following Arthur's as he turned the German's collar up, sliding the tie around his neck.

A small blush spread across Ludwig's cheeks, as Arthur lent closer to tie the damned thing. Well, this wasn't at all sexy - was it? Arthur looked down at him, his green eyes sparking with laughter still. Ludwig nudged the Englishman's stomach gently. "Stop that, I know what you're doing," he warmed.

"I'm doing your tie, what else am I doing?"

"You know full well what you're doing!"

"Nope," Arthur said, finishing the tie and then straddling Ludwig.

"Oh come on Arthur!" Ludwig rolled his eyes as Arthur pushed him back onto the bed. "Luddy, you know I prefer taking you out of suits..."

Ludwig put up a finger. "Later, we have a reunion to go to!" Arthur could hardly argue with a promise like that, so he rolled off of the German, and went to find his trousers.

* * *

The Academy's halls were decorated in bunting of all shapes and sizes, as a small blur ran around, attaching it to every available surface. Gilbert was leant against one of the tables, where dinner would later be served, watching the speedy young man run from table to table with name tags and decorations. As the puppy-like redhead bounced towards him, he held out his arms, sweeping the shorter man into a hug. "Calm down Feli, you've done an awesome job already," he said, squeezing the Italian.

"Ah, but Gil, I'm so excited! Everyone's coming and I can't wait to see them all again! Ot's going to be so much fun!" Gilbert chuckled as he glanced over at the clock that hung on the wall. "Well you've been running around for three hours nonstop, how about we go find something to eat, ja?"

The Italian looked up at his boyfriend with an expectant grin. "Pasta?" Gilbert laughed "What else?"

By the time the two returned, cars were pulling onto the grounds and people began trickling in. Francis and Ivan were some of the first to arrive, walking hand in hand into the beautifully decorated halls. As they made their ways through the corridors, they passed hundreds of photographs that Feliciano had collected and lined the walls with. Ivan stopped Francis, pointing to one he had spotted. "Look, us!" He said, and Francis came sauntering over from the frankly amazing picture of himself, one he vaguely remembered Matthew using for an art project.

Indeed, Ivan had found possibly the only photo of the two of them, on a coach heading somewhere. Ivan looked decidedly unhappy about the fact that he had been put next to Francis, who was grinning widely at the camera, roping his arm around a disgruntled Russian. "Oh, you're so cute when you're grumpy Ivan," he laughed, poking the real man's face. "And short!" Ivan's mouth dropped open. "I was not short! You were too!" Francis just laughed, pulling Ivan towards more photos of himself.

They eventually stumbled across one that must have been a sneaky shot at a party, of Francis and Arthur sitting with their hands entwined - and Arthur was smiling! Francis sighed fondly.

"I-a hope you don't mind I used that one, Francis," a voice behind him said. They turned to see Feliciano, decked out in suit and tie too, smiling at them. "Just it's a beautiful picture! And well, I wanted to remember everything, and you guys were a big thing," Feliciano's smile wavered a bit as Ivan stared at the photo; but Francis laughed.

"Non, of course I don't mind! It is a very nice picture, I agree," he said, pulling Feliciano into a hug. "Merci, I like it very much," The Italian glanced nervously at Ivan, but then he turned back, smiling too. "As long as little Arthur knows you're mine, I think so too," Francis laughed, waving his left hand at Ivan.

"I think 'e knows, we did invite 'im to the wedding," he said, looping his hand through Ivan's. Feliciano grinned, bouncing on his feet. "And he has a boyfriend now too, didn't you know?" Both men looked shocked.

"Really?!" Francis gasped. "I 'aven't seen 'im since we left, and I 'eard that all 'e did was go 'ome and... Continue the grumpiness? Je ne sais pas; but who is it?" Feliciano chuckled.

"Si, si, didn't you know? It's Ludwig!"

There was silence between the two. And then laughter.

"They are not a couple I'd have thought up," Ivan said, pointing at another photo that had a stoney faced Ludwig glaring into the soul of whoever was holding the camera. "I mean Arthur's a bit miserable, but Ludwig?"

Francis gave Ivan a nudge in the side "Oi, you shush! Let the grumpy couple be 'appy, mmm?" The three all shared a laugh at that, and headed into the main hall, still reminiscing.

Not too long after, Ludwig stepped from their rental car, smiling at the sight of the familiar building, as Arthur climbed from his seat. "Wow... It hans't changed much, has it?" Arthur remarked, closing the door with a gentle thud. Ludwig glanced over his shoulder, at Arthur in his three piece suit. The green of his waistcoat shone like his eyes as Arthur became lost in daydreams about his old school. Ludwig inched around and slid a hand around his small waist. "Nein... It hasn't."

They made their way, hand in hand through the corridors, coming to a stop as they neared the bustling hall. The pictures became more frequent towards the hall, so they stopped to look for a moment. As more people arrived, they stopped, and were stopped by, old friends, who pulled them into hugs or demanded to know what had being happening in their lives. The loud booming voice of one Alfred Jones was only calmed when his quieter Canadian boyfriend dragged him towards the food, muttering apologies to Arthur who felt as though he had broken three ribs. As Arthur nursed his bruised chest and Ludwig hid his chuckles behind a cough, an eerily familiar voice floated past.

"Mon Dieu, look who it is," came the Frenchman's accent. Arthur looked up to see Francis in the doorway, his blazer already discarded somewhere and his sleeves rolled up to hos elbows, one hand clutching a wine glass and the other slung around Antonio's shoulders.

"Arthur Kirkland - it's been a while," Arthur straightened himself, a pale pink dusting his cheeks. "Francis... Nice to see you, and uh, you too Antonio," he said, reaching out a hand. Francis rolled his eyes "Always the gentleman Arthur!" He said as he pulled Arthur into a hug. Arthur stood frozen for a moment, awkwardly patting the Frenchman's back until he lent away. "I see you aren't any more 'uggable than you used to be, mmm?" Arthur wasn't sure how to answer that, so just shrugged, as Antonio too slapped his back and welcomed him.

Francis held up his glass, taking a sip. "Are you coming in then, Feliciano's done wonders, it 'ardly looks like our gym, ahaha!"

Francis didn't miss the glance Ludwig and Arthur shared, nor how they silently held each others hands as they entered. Inside, the party was in full swing - music blaring, the loud chatter of long lost friends and the steady stream of alcohol that fuelled them all. The four were separated in the crowds, drifting towards different people and tables, and as Arthur relaxed into it more, he felt more at ease with the whole situation. Neither Francis or Ivan had mentioned anything he'd rather leave unsaid, and for that he was glad. He spent the hours moving around, at times with Ludwig, other times finding the German was in deep conversation with someone else, prompting Arthur towards either the bar, or someone else.

At one point in the evening, though it was quite possibly already past 10, Arthur found himself sitting alone at a table, happily finishing the last half of his larger. He watched as couples danced and chattered. He absently spught out Ludwig in the crowd, and found him sitting a whole away with his brother, looking rather lime he was in the middle of a drinking contest. Then a figure arrived by the table.

"Francis..." The Frenchman pulled up a chair next to Arthur, watching him over his glass.

"Arthur, 'ave you been avoiding me?" He asked, one hand under his chin as he studied the Brit.

"No... Not really," Arthur said, swallowing a mouthful of his own drink. Francis rolled his eyes, patting Arthur's knee and making him stiffen. "Oh come on, Artie, relax - what's with you?" Arthur sighed, massaging his head.

"I... I didn't want to come tonight. I just... Left this school at a bad time..." Francis coughed.

"You mean our breakup?" Arthur glared at him for a second, as thpugh he'd just broken some unspoken promise. Then he let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and dropped his bottle onto the table.

"...yes. It was... I just felt terrible, okay? You had always been loyal, and that night - you threw that party and it was amazing... And I just blew it all. I was so stupid, Francis, and I... I deserved everything Gilbert and Antonio threw at me to be honest," he said, his hand lingering on his nose. He shook his head. "I feel terrible about it, can't you understand why I didn't want to be here? To show to everyone that here's the guy who broke Bonnefoy's heart - and don't say I didn't, everyone knows how much it hurt you - to come here, parading around showing that I'm happy and-... It just felt wrong. It feels wrong. You were so... Great. And I.. Ruined that. I'm sorry..." His shoulders drooped, and suddenly he buried his head in his hands. The guilt that had plagued him for ten years, the days he'd shoved away and hid somewhere dark in his memory, all swarmed back.

Francis looked at him sternly for a moment. "The alcohol 'as really gone to your 'ead, non?" Arthur looked up through his fingers. "What?"

Francis smiled softly, putting a comforting hand on Arthur's back. "Arthur, that was all ten years ago. We were teenagers. We were stupid, and yes, I was upset at the time, but why would that have any affect on now?" Arthur shrugged.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me," he said quietly, so quietly Francis had to lean closer to hear him. "Arthur, I 'ave never 'eard something so stupid - I wanted to see you years ago! We were friends, were we not? Before we were lovers, and when the anger cooled, I thought we could go back to being friends. Then you went off to med school, and decided not to even turn up to the wedding! Why would I send an invite to you if I didn't want you there?" Arthur let out a shaky chuckle.

"I don't know! I thought a clean break might be best, if we just ignored it all..."

"And I did, that's why I invited you, it's all forgotten. I'll 'ave you know I am 'appily married to Ivan, Arthur, I love 'im. Oui, I loved you, back then, and I won't deny you've grown even more 'andsome, but 'e is my soulmate. I didn't see it when we were children, but 'e's the man I love, and 'e loves me too... Are you 'appy?"

Arthur sat up, running a hand through his hair. Francis sighed. "It's not a crime if you are..."

"Yes," Arthur said, pulling up his hand and waving it at Francis. The glint of the gold band around his ring finger caught Francis' eye and he smiled. Both of them smiled. "I'm happy. Ludwig's... Brilliant. Really brilliant. I... Love him"

The two sat back in their chairs and Francis shuffled a little closer to Arthur, and slid his arm around the back of the chair. They watched the party go on, for a while, watching Alfred dance and Ludwig win the drinking contest. Francis' eyes were alight with humour as he turned to Arthur once more. "Now, Mr. Kirkland, I want details, and please - don't skimpy on kinky~"

"I cannot believe you just said that, frog,"

"Me neither. I spent too long with Alfred. Mon Dieu... But really, who asked who? And 'ow romantic was it?"

"Ha, you'd never guess... Ludwig. And very much so..."


End file.
